Esperanza
by Bony Hearts
Summary: "Has Mother been missing? Like anyone else?" I can feel father stiffen. His eyes wander, seeming so far away and dull."Yes." RUK


**Characters: **Arthur Kirkland, Ivan Braginski, Alicia Kirkland-Braginski (She is Arthur and Ivan's daughter, OC and the story will be in her P.O.V), Katshuya (Ukraine), Raivis (Latvia)...**  
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**Pairing: **RUK**  
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**Note:** Read it with open mind and you will see.

**Warning: **Typos...as always**.  
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**Discailmer: **I don't own anything, except for the plot and my OC.

**No further ado,**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>ESPERANZA<strong>

* * *

><p><em>The hometown I'm currently living is named "Esperanza". I live here with my father, Ivan. And we both love this small town. Although the place is not as crowed or full of lights or busy as some big cities, it has many mysteries about itself. Esperanza seems to be quiet and peaceful and nothing bad can touch its line. But there is always something lying beneath the surface that every person in Esperanza knows existing.<em>

_It's been starting long ago, when the first folks stepped on Esperanza' soil. Many told that they, those trailblazers, were some groups of people wanting to find a new land and start a new life in peace. In those families, people said, there was a very special one. It was begun that all of the members of this family had green eyes. I know that green eyes aren't such rare, but theirs were different. The green which had been painting their iris for many generations was magnificent. It was the green of long lost forests full of magical legends and creatures; it was the green of deep mysterious holes in this life; it was the green of vast land that no one had come to spoil it pureness. And it was the green of some seductive spells which anyone could fall for readily and never be banned._

_Things didn't stop at that. When all of those people decided the land would be their new home because of its suitable and wonderful climate and perfect landscape, they named it "Esperanza" like today and began to build the untouched place. _

_Firstly, they wanted to find the source of water to lead it to their small village and find out which plants they would plant. The green-eyed family voiced out their opinions and volunteered to help with all those things. They promised they would do it perfectly and soon departed for their mission. _

_And just like they put their words, they'd succeed in bringing the water to their new found home. They also made some small gardens and fields that are filled with fruits and wheat, therefore others could mirror them. Everyone was surprised and happy, though they honestly didn't know how the family had managed to do all those. It was only a few days and they had brought back miracles._

_When people asked them about this, they just explained shortly that they were lucky._

_Just a pure luck._

_Other people, in fact, didn't buy it. Yet they didn't press. They were optimistic and things were going smoothly. They were pleased. Nothing harmed. So they let the issue be._

_And then life went on; the small village soon became a town. Lively activities flooded Esperanza, foods were never in lack of and lives of the citizens were calm, comfortably off and peaceful. So that Esperanza was called "The land of happiness", full of smiling and happy faces._

_Until it happened._

* * *

><p>Who tells you living with only a father is hard?<p>

Whatever you say, it's not that hard.

Right now, being accompanied with a bowl of cereal and enjoying the scene in front of, I'm truly honest.

My father - like strangers call him (Mr. /Sir) Braginski whilst relatives prefer Ivan – with a pipe on his left hand while his eyes darting around, is looking for his poor target. Really, he's acting as if he's taking part in a hunt.

"Daddy, it's just a cockroach…" – I say with rolling eyes, taking a full spoon of my breakfast.

"Niet, Alicia. I can't let that monstrous little black thing wander in my kitchen I need to protect you from it" – He replied, ignoring my sigh as his orbs remain focusing on the floor, on the fridge, at the doorway to the kitchen and under the table. His hand tightens around the pipe. "Come out here to papa, cocky…" – He cooed cocky, well the cockroach with his harmless childish voice which warns to become much more harmful in action. His dark aura flies out blanketing him.

Dear cockroach, if you want to live, you'd better hide.

It seems my message doesn't come in time because the small black insert is crawling out from its hiding spot. Really, the Messenger Service needs improving.

"Da! Find you, cocky!" – Sharp and hard slamming sound of metal is heard. I think I hear the cockroach shriek.

Poor lad.

"I'm going to school, daddy" – I put my bowl into the sink, greeting my father and smiling at his satisfied grin. "Bye, my little sunflower."

You see. It's really not that hard.

* * *

><p>When I was little, about nine or ten, I always wanted to ask my father about his pipe (- the thing that he'd used to 'murder' the cockroach in our lovely kitchen).<p>

To me, it was a total mystery. So you couldn't really judge me by my weird and shocked look when I first saw the thing on his bookshelf, where he usually decorated with souvenirs and books.

Okay, it was definitely not a book and it, sadly, didn't look like any souvenir. (Who would sell that thing as one anyway...?)

Too curious to ignore it as a strange part of my father's hobbies, I took the pipe up and examined it. A mental breakdown hit me when I recognized there were blood spots on it.

My mind screamed at me like a bitch it was and I dramatically burst into tears. "I don't even know, daddy…"

"Know what, my Alicia?" – Speaking of the devil. I turned my head round sharply; eyes darkened. "You! I don't even know that you are this kind of person!" I pointed at the evil pipe accursedly. "I think you're better than that, daddy! I think you can handle your temper, even if I know you like things getting violent. But honestly, I don't mind if you're a serial killer. However, this is too bad! Which killer is stupid enough to cover their killing weapon as a souvenir when it doesn't look like one at all! You've watched those movies with me, dad; you can do a lot better than this."

I kept on my ranting and ignored his paler and paler face. For the first time in my life, I saw his violet eyes reflect on fear. I guessed he wasn't the one to be exposed. It was me.

And from that day, my father had learnt a hard way that his little sunflower wasn't the kind of person he believed she was. (Oh well…)

And from that day, I learnt about 'Mother'.

* * *

><p>The night right after the incident, after having calmed ourselves down, we sat together in the sofa in the living room. I seated there, eyes blank and hands clinging into my father's sleeves. My head rested on his strong shoulder and his on top of mines.<p>

We were both silent, too thrilled to say anything. We found out that now we must be facing a problem that we two had avoided and tried to live on without it.

'Mother'

It sounded unfamiliar yet painfully opposite at the same time. It tasted weird in my tongue and I wanted to say it out loud over and over again. I suddenly found myself longing for things that seemed to be out of my reach. And I realized that I'd never questioned him, my father.

Raised up without a caring hand of a mother, I got used to living with my father alone. He showed me so much love, adoration and care that he somehow made me forget that I need another parent. But when I remembered as I saw my friends cuddling and pouting and laughing with their mother, I felt red. I tried my best to fight the pain in my chest. I tried to convinced myself that everything was okay and nothing had happened, that I was fine and I had to forget.

So I forgot. A kid was always easy to lie to.

And father had done a good job at helping me. My house wasn't covered with the past when I hadn't been born yet. Father hid old albums away, out of my eyesight. He put my and his ones onto the selves instead and old memories were stored at the back of his head, no need to be retold. There were present and future to fool minds. No reminders and life wasn't disturbed.

And I knew father did so because he too, needed to forget. Because he couldn't handle the pain like he was appeared to be. Especially when it was a great pain.

I closed my eyes, feeling my not-grown-up-yet brain being wrapped up with new information and new emotions. I knew we couldn't play hide and seek any longer; our hearts were begging for a difference and fighting for it.

Like father, he couldn't even throw that pipe away.

It was, after all, the thing that somehow drew them together.

"Tell me about it, daddy. Every detail."

And so he began his story.

* * *

><p>"It was a rainy day" he said "and I hated rainy days. It ruined my mood and my temper didn't help."<p>

"Back then I also worked as a plumber to make out some money for my study. One day I received a phone-call asking me to come to a house not so far from my own. There was a leaking water pipe."

"I decided to walk and ignored the downpour of the sky. It helped cool me down. When I got to the right address, my jaw almost dropped, mentally. It was a very big and luxurious house and would surely be for a very rich man or woman. For the love of Vodka, that was what I was trying to achieve with my study. If I even could. My eyebrows knitted together and I found my anger sweeping into me again. What a pessimistic thought."

"Of course I could and I would do better than that. I'd left my dear Russia for a reason and I was going to get it no matter what."

My father went still for a few minutes before continuing.

"Stepping in front of the front door, I pressed the door bell waiting. My box of tools seemed to be more patient than me. A whole fifteen minutes went by and the door finally (and thankfully) opened (if not, I was sure I would kick down that door and step in. Those riches didn't mind it, da? They had plenty of pennies to replace a brand new one) releasing behind it a man. The most attractive man I'd ever seen."

My father's eyes lit up slightly, as though the man was standing right in front of him. The fondness in his voice made me wonder, I wanted to ask but stopped myself.

"He had sandy blonde hair which was messy but seemed so soft for touching. His skin was pale as if he never had to go out under the sun, adoring his slim figure. And yet, his brows… Mother of Vodka… Was it painted by someone cruel or drunk? Or was it really real? But it suited his feature strangely."

"However what captured me were his incredibly green eyes. Vibrant green eyes. Like emerald liquid. For a moment, I thought I had been lost in that colour. 'Alright' I had to say to myself 'you should calm your sudden fast heart beats down now or else your heart will be thrown out of your chest'"

("Don't look at me like that, dear. I'm not kidding; when my emotions get high or too down, my heart can't take it." He sighed.)

"And just afterward, the man's face turned into a scowl. So my wish was granted, my heart went to sleep in a normal beating rhythm. Yet I wanted nothing but to reach my hand out to smack the scowl away. Oh well, maybe that even resulted in more scowls. I kept my face neutral, a faint smile on my lips looking at the man with a mild cold stare.

"You are the plumber I've called, aren't you? Will you come in? Or you will you stand there all day?" – The man had a British accent, I noted. It quite suited him.

"Da, and mind you stepping aside for me to get in?" – Said I politely but mockingly. The blonde man started and realized his mistake. He took some steps aside and I heard him mutter under his breath. I had made an uneasy effort not to grin or worse, laugh at his face. It wouldn't be a good impression, da?"

"When I was eventually inside the house, he led me to where there were pipes in need repairing. I couldn't help but looked around. The walls were in warm colors and the lights inside made them warmer. There were some pictures here and there and all have same things – Green-eyed people, including the man himself. I guessed those people were his relatives or sort of."

"I listened to the sounds surrounding us. They were just our footsteps only, making me conclude that the host of this house lived alone" – Father suddenly paused. He was tasting the word 'alone' with his taste bud. It didn't look much delicious.

"…And we finally made it to the kitchen, a large one at that. But it didn't seem to be used much. The green eyes man grumpily told me what I had to fix and walked off. At the time, I didn't like him, apart from his attractive appearance. I knew judging someone you had just met for a few minutes wasn't right. But I couldn't help it. I huffed and started my work. I too had an urge to get away from here (him) as soon as possible."

"The work went well and the man didn't bother to sneak up to observe it. Like I cared anyway… When everything was done, I was very glad. Though my happiness didn't last long for a voice shouted out in panic. It was him, that man."

"A cruel thought appeared at my mind, feeding my anger 'Then let him shout. It isn't important to me. Even if he died…' All of a sudden, his eyes showed up in my head at the thought of him dying.

His green eyes looked up at me lifelessly."

"I immediately rushed to find him, taking the pipe I had laid down nearby when I replaced it with a new one with me. I didn't know what I was thinking at that moment, all of it like a blur. I just heard my heart pounding hard in my ribcage, my eyes looking around quickly and my ears listening to his voice to find the way that led to the poor man. I ran while vague fears were gulping me down.

And thanks to Mother Russia, I found him at last. But the scene in front of me wasn't amusing or relieving either." – He held his breath; his eyes were burning even though he endeavored to stay calm. I felt my nails digging into his arm, eyes wide.

"He was being pinned down into the ground; his shirt was taken off and there was a man on top of him who I couldn't see the face. The host had tears on his cheeks and helplessly called out for help."

"I felt very angry, angry at the crime before me, at myself for having thought of letting him be, ignoring his calls for help. I saw red and launched at the strange man. I remembered hearing smacking sounds of mental breaking something, hearing sounds of merciless punches and kicks, hearing sounds of curses which seemed to come out from my lips, hearing sounds of someone crying out in pain and hearing sounds of someone begging me to stop, sounds of someone assuring that everything was alright and 'Please, stop! I'm getting scared!'

With that I stopped. My brain started to run normally again and made me understand what had just happened. I felt my face and hands and clothes soaked in what was like blood.

I felt sick.

I thought I'd stopped doing things like this long ago.

I felt sick.

Till a pair of arms hugged my head, warm chests touched my face. I realized that the blonde man was trying to comfort me while he was the one who needed it most. His surprisingly soft and smooth voice was talking sweet to my ears and his body though trembling terribly, didn't release me.

I felt my head hurt and my throat sore. Frustrated tears rolled down my cheek-bones… And I hugged him back, around his waist and my face almost buried into his stomach.

"I'm sorry" – I choked out, not caring that I was crying in front of a man I didn't know, surprising that I could still do so. I could see his astonished expression and my grip on him was tighter but he didn't push me away.

We stayed like that until the police came."

Father looked at the carpeted floor, his face unreadable. I held my tongue and in a second I was scared. I hugged his arm tightly; unclear sympathy was filling my chest. He returned my intimate gesture, kissing my crown.

I knew he wasn't out of the past yet. He would go on.

"After that I hadn't seen him again for three weeks. Then I received a call, from a not-so-foreign voice and I found myself at that big house one more time. But this time the door was opened almost immediately when I rang the bell. The greeting was still a scowl yet with an added blush and harsh words didn't have its true meaning.

And he had reached out his hand.

"The name's Arthur Kirkland… Nice to meet you."

I smiled, for the first time when I came to this town, at his blushing face "Ivan, Ivan Braginski. Nice to meet you too.""

And my father slowly let his eyelashes down, hiding his violet orbs. I acknowledged that he wouldn't tell anything more.

* * *

><p>When that night was gone, many days, months and a whole four years chased after it. Father often tells me more about Mother. Though the stories he talks to me were just like pieces of a tearing up book. They are interrupted, sometimes equivocal, sometimes clear but shortly lasted.<p>

I feel like he just talks about it when he likes, to remind him of something, to make himself remember and to make sure that they weren't just memories. They were something else much more special and he tries to keep it that way.

Just like at the moment, while looking at my green eyes expectedly and invisible fears are masking his ones, he is telling about the past – When he and Mother went to the famous cliff of the town to watch sunrises or sometimes sunsets. I can see the wonderful rising of the sun and the beautiful invasion of the dusk reflecting on his two orbs. I can see the never-ended love showing from his beating heart to his experienced face. I can see Mother smiling at him and them hugging each other in pure happiness.

I suddenly feel jealous of my father. Because he has, the only things I can never have, moments with Mother, memories about him.

"Daddy" – I call him and he is pulled out of his stream of thoughts. "Da, my little sunflower?" – He asks with that childish voice.

"Has Mother been missing? Like anyone else?"

I can feel him stiffen. ('Please, father, answer me.') His eyes wander, seeming so far away and dull.

"Yes."

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><p><em>That was a normal day like any other day in Esperanza. Things were ordinary.<em>

_No one had seen it coming._

_The scream was echoed out, panicking the quiet and peaceful pitch-black night sky. That day stars seemed to be too scared to shine and the moon was nowhere to be seen. So paths were deep dark and only lightened up by the burning torches of people rushing to where the horrible sound came from. When they arrived, they only saw a woman – a mother crying out in great pain and despair._

"_They'd stolen my child! They'd stolen my child!" – She shrieked again and again. Her eyes looked as if they would be fallen out of her sockets with the streams of tears._

_Her cries haunted every single human being standing there who helplessly calmed her down and helped her up. Her cries were hollow and carried away by the winds into the deep endless night. And her cries would mark for the beginning of a mystery that would cover Esperanza up many following years and centuries_

_But in the end, everyone knew that the first lost child was gifted with a pair of beautiful green eyes._

* * *

><p>"You know it's only two months to the thing..." A boyish voice says to me as we are on the way to school, uncomfortable at the topic it'd brought up itself.<p>

"So yeah?" – I reply carelessly and the owner of the voice looks at me in disbelief "Y-You are not… kidding, right? Alicia, your eyes are green!"

"And what about that, Raivis! Stop it, you're just worked up!" – I shout at the boy, making him jump and nearly burst into tear. Damn it, my temper.

"I-I'm a-afraid, Ali… People go missing every year a-and we have no clues on how to stop…" – He says in quiver and bites his bottom lip to prevent more tears from flowing down his cheeks, which isn't working. "I-I think you w-will disappear someday, like Tor-Toris..."

I cup his face with my both hands, looking straight into his dark blue iris. "No, I will not disappear. Just look, every year that thing happens and I'm still here. Believe it or not, I'm lucky" – I force myself to smile – "And you know that every year one person is gone but another one suddenly re-appears and they have no physically or mentally harms. Indeed they lose their memories about the time they have been missing, but it's not really a big deal!"

Raivis raises his eyes to meet mine. Lord, he's surely like my younger brother or son even. "You're not lucky, Ali" The tone of his voice makes me startle; it feels like it's from someone else, not the Raivis I've known for years.

He paces forward as I take a step back. His eyes never leave my green ones "Every person who is taken away is in puberty or has experienced it. And you haven't, right Alicia?" – I try to hold back a shudder. "Once you hit it, you will become a target like other people. You're not lucky, Ali."

I feel my legs want to give in.

"It's just not time yet."

* * *

><p>Who tells you living with only a father is hard?<p>

Oh well, maybe that's true and in my situation right now, I won't argue about it.

I'm staring at my underwear which is on my hand after I've taken a shower. Horror is painted on my face as I look at the red trace along my small personal cloth. Truth to be told, I have no idea what it is. Lately, I have felt the dull pain in my stomach and I'm very grumpy. But I don't know that it will lead to something this 'bloody'!

And I decide to do the thing that I know I do best. I scream. Bloody murder.

Five minutes later, father runs up with his panic-stricken face, not forgetting his beloved pipe. Dear Lord, "NO! NO MORE PIPES, DADDY!" – I shout and he throws it onto my bed sheet immediately. Waiting for me to say anything.

"I-I'm dying, daddy" – I choke out, shamelessly showing him the proof. This time his face drains out of warm colors and he screams.

Picking me up, he hurries out of the house, getting in his car and starting the engine. I cling into his shirt, panic is raising inside me "I don't want to die…daddy". If can, his face will get even paler. One of his arms wraps around me protectively. "I won't let that happen, my little sunflower!"

The hospital isn't far from home and it only takes fifteen minutes of driving. My aunt works here as a doctor and so when father goes inside, he shouts out her name, paying no minds to other people who are trying to stop him from making any chaos. My aunt shows up terrified; having no clue on what is going on. The sentence "She's dying, katshuya" makes her even more confused.

My aunt leads us to one of the beds and she begins to examine me. She looks so painfully calm and asks me some questions. She then excuses herself to get some medicines and returns with an unchanged expression. My father and I fearfully watch her, waiting for the worst. Father's much larger hand squeezes my own to comfort me.

Aunt Katshuya still doesn't say a word, quietly writing down on her clipboard. She stands up suddenly and stares at us. We are holding our breaths.

Smack.

Two hits to two heads, we both look at her in surprise. "Oh my silly brother and niece!" – She shakes her head and bursts into laughter… What is so funny?

"Oh my my, dear little girl, you're not dying. You are becoming a lady!" – She says with sincerity and caresses my cheeks which are stained with dry tears - "Don't worry."

Right then I understand everything and I guess father does too, because his face goes red as well as mine.

"We need to talk, Vanya" – Aunt Katshuya suddenly changes the tone of her voice, looking directly at my father. He seems to know what she means and the two go outside, far from my earshot.

A moment later, father comes back with a hard face, yet he endeavors to smile when I shot him a question look. We then apologize for our silliness and rudeness before fare welling Aunt Katshuya (She also has an unseen grimace hidden under her gentle smile) to go back home.

So I'm not dying. Yes, but I'm not safe either. Now I'm in more danger. And father knows that too, for his arm is holding my smaller body against him more protectively.

* * *

><p>Night comes and I can't sleep. Raivis' words echo inside my head. I lies on my bed, waiting for the worst thing to come.<p>

But it never comes.

The next morning we are informed that a girl named 'Lily' has disappeared. She's a little older than me and she's come here from Switzerland with her brother, who had found out her missing last night.

Is it a sin to sigh out in relief?

This year, I'm still lucky. But next year, it might be different.

'It's just not time yet.'

* * *

><p>A new year comes without me noticing it. I just pay attention when father's gotten more and more irritated. He will hold me in his arms all night whispering prayers into my ears; I don't mind it and I feel safe in his grip. He tells me about Mother, confessing how much he still loves him, how much he misses him and how much he wants me not to disappear like him.<p>

He can't take it.

'When my emotions get high or too down, my heart can't take it.'

I feel his cheeks wet along with mine.

* * *

><p>I don't see Raivis anymore. It's not that I avoid him; he's just nowhere to be seen. I recall the last time I saw him and can't help shivering. Now my mind is full of complicated things and I want to ignore all and live like before.<p>

But I know nothing is the same as before and I must be strong for myself and my father when things are changed.

* * *

><p>Then only two more months to go to that thing again and we are hopeless. My father and I try to have as much time together as can. We smile, we sing, we talk, we eat, and we smile again and continue our routine. And when nights fall, father will come to my bedroom or I will sneak into his one and we share bed. He will make out some lullabies and make up some fairytales to lull me to sleep. I feel like I'm a kid once more and strangely happy about that.<p>

Father will talk some more about Mother, about his beautiful songs and lovely adventurous tales. I will fall into a slumber after that and he will stay up all night like a hawk watching out for me.

And in the mornings, he will take turn in sleeping before he must be up to work. Because days are always more secure.

But you never know if you are careful enough.

* * *

><p>Night greets us like it's been doing for so many years, so hateful and dangerous.<p>

Two months are up and we are exhausted. Tonight father falls asleep unwillingly. He is tired and he needs resting. So I let him sleep.

Because I haven't know what will come up next.

I lie next to my father on my bed. It's really too small for two people but we manage to fit in. I retreat into his chest, listening to his even rhythm; I let a smile form itself on my lips.

If only the night would be peaceful like this till it ended. If only the door led to my balcony didn't burst open and show a shining figure standing there.

If only my eyes weren't green.

I feel tears overflow from the corners of my two green eyes. I feel numb even though my body is shaking slightly. I want to scream, I want to wake my father up and help me. But I can't.

I just can't.

The figure becomes more and more glowing as it steps closer and closer to my bed. It's appeared to have a human form and wear a white shirt and white pants. It brings out lights like stars on the sky and it eyes are deep green.

Beautiful green.

Vibrant green like emerald liquid.

Finally it stands right next to the bed, looking down at my trembling form and the sleeping man beside me. It kneels down and takes its hand to touch my face, in which tears refuse to stop streaming down. It caresses my face gently and so lovingly that I have to fight back a gasp and fear to look at it. It's like a man glowing in the dark night. It gives me a look and then turns its gaze to my father. Its green orbs….

"M-Mother" – I whisper, and it looks at me again. "Mother" I find myself repeating the word "Mother", tears keep on coming. It leans down and kisses my forehead, then doing the same to my father.

It stands up and turns its back to us, advancing the balcony. I look after it "Mother…"

"Arthur," I can see it starting and the voice behind me says in his warm tone "I know you will be back."

And in a second, I think I've imagined that the figure's turned its head to look back at us, that it's smiled. I'm not sure because the lights of its body are too blinding.

Then it disappears into the thin air, leaving no traces behind and the next day.

* * *

><p>In the following morning, father doesn't talk much. He keeps his tiny smile and childish voice getting into the way. I let him be.<p>

"I'm going to school, daddy"

"Bye, my little sunflower" – He says whilst watching the local news. 'It's really a strange event that this year no one has gone missing. Maybe the methods the government are now working. Every family in Esperanza must be relieved… '

I step out of my house, pacing along the pavement.

Oblivious to a stare I get. From a short curly blonde hair with dark blue eyes boy.

"It's just not time yet."

* * *

><p><em>The hometown I'm currently living is named "Esperanza". I live here with my father, Ivan. And we both love this small town. Although the place is not as crowed or full of lights or busy as some big cities, it has many mysteries about itself. Esperanza seems to be quiet and peaceful and nothing bad can touch its line. But there is always something lying beneath the surface that every person in Esperanza knows existing.<em>

_Every year in Esperanza there will be a person going missing and another previous missing ones will appear at their houses with no memories about their gone time. The event takes place in the same month, same day and same targets._

_Green eyes._

_Authorities and many security forces have no idea why and have no traces._

_The event has been becoming the 'normal' life in Esperanza. People somehow has learnt to accept it. They can't avoid it anyway; even when they run away from the land._

_The citizens live in fear but at the same time, in hope._

_They believe that they loved ones will come back and indeed some have done. So they live on with never-dying heart full of hopes. Waiting for the days their wishes come true._

_That's why this land, this town is named 'Esperanza'._

**_ Alicia,_**

**_ Journal, date…_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Fin.<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>(Slightly eddited on Feb 22nd, 2012.)<br>_**


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